


Just A Story

by dontletyourheartdistractyou



Category: Teen Wolf (TV)
Genre: (and it's with a clone so would that count?), (i don't know), (it's just pre though!), Alternate Universe - Space, Clones, Established Relationship, F/F, I Don't Even Know, Pre-Relationship, Self-cest
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-14
Updated: 2015-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-26 10:14:42
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,516
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5000851
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/dontletyourheartdistractyou/pseuds/dontletyourheartdistractyou
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Malia gasps, because while her hair isn't the right shade or the right length, and her eyes are slightly more unnatural in colour, this is unmistakably... her.</p><p>(Criminal Malia wakes up in a cold, dark room without her girlfriend/partner Allison, with only a girl speaking to her. Only problem? That girl? She's got Malia's voice. <i> OR </i> In which Malia meets her clone and gay shit's probably gonna happen.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	Just A Story

**Author's Note:**

> Sorry I'm so late with this! I honestly have no idea what this is. I came up with the idea during school and was practically bouncing with the need to write it.
> 
> The title's about the fact that Malia and Allison didn't know clones existed until they met Tate, or Malia #2.
> 
> This fic is so weird, holy shit.

Malia wakes to little more than a feeling of dread running through her veins.

The room she's in is dark, a small light flickering on the corner, over what looks like a desk with some kind of engine parts scattered around. There's a crick in her neck, and as her eyes blink open, she's met with a soft material under her hands but a cold metal digging into her neck.

She waits, one second passing by, then another, and another, until it hits her and the only word that can leave her lips is 'Allison'.

"Ah, what did I expect?" Someone sighs in the darkened side of the room, the voice sounded eerily familiar as Malia's head snaps up. Her hand stretches for her blaster, muscles aching in protest, but all it reaches is the air as it taps against her thigh.

The person - undeniably female, although Malia still has no idea why the voice is so familiar - snorts, their voice a mix of humour and something else that it takes a moment for Malia to place. It sounds like sadness.

"Don't worry about your blaster," she says, as Malia starts to twitch with worry, even as her body screams with pain. "I've got it over here. Just promise you won't shoot me."

"Why would I promise that?" Malia growls, trying to shuffle slightly, a bit further forward just to catch a glimpse of whoever is talking as they step slightly into the dim light. "For all I know, you could be the one who kept me here."

The girl chuckles, a throaty sound that's edged rough with bitterness, "Trust me, Malia. We're on the same side, whether we like it or not."

Malia continues to struggle against the agony flooding her system, replacing it with utter need to find Allison. "What do you mean by that? And how do you know who I am?"

'Unless they got Allison', her brain taunts and she freezes, stuck in the terror of losing the one person life ever shoved her way that actually gave a shit.

"How do I know?" The girl sneers, stepping forward with large, clomping steps that practically shake the room. "Why don't you take a look?"

Malia gasps, because while her hair isn't the right shade or the right length, and her eyes are slightly more unnatural in colour, this is unmistakably... her.

This girl?

It's Malia.

It's herself.

What the fuck?

-

"Clones," Malia repeats, her eyebrow raising in disbelief, as her... clone? Doppleganger? Whatever the fuck this girl is, she's rolling her eyes so hard Malia is surprised it doesn't hurt.

"Yes, clones," the other drawls, clearly bored and uninterested in Malia's current dilemma. "And while that may seem to big for your pretty head, it happens. We exist."

"But why haven't we heard of you?" Malia asks, her voice questioning and a slight bit curious.

The girl fiddles with the plaque controlling the door, her glare sharp and unrelenting, "The human colony we come from? It's old, Malia. The tech there's old, the people are old, disregarding some... it's just old. They're stuck at least fifty years in the past."

Malia scowls at that, the bitter to her voice and the disregard she has for her home, but doesn't say anything, keeping quiet for this... person to concentrate.

The girl's angry now, hacking with fiery anger as her fingers smash against the control panel, her hair falling into her eyes, and Malia lets the comforting side take over, pushing it behind her ear.

The girl gives her a shocked, wide-eyed glance, and it suprises her to see a slight pink flush over her cheeks, but it disappears as quickly as it comes.

The other clears her throat, the moment broken, and the questions spill out of Malia's mouth. "What should I call you? Is Allison okay? Where are we, anyway? What-"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," the girl tries to calm her. "Slow down, sweetheart. Start from the beginning."

Malia nods, taking calm breaths, before settling on the first, "What should I call you? Having two Malia's around'll get confusing."

The girl hums, tilting her head to the side. After a few moments of pondering, she smiles. "Call me Tate."

"Tate," Malia tests the name out. "It suits you."

The girls share a soft grin, and while it's weird to literally smile at herself, the look on Tate's face is infectious.

"So," Malia breaks through the happy atmosphere. "Where are we? And Allison is..?"

"Last I checked," Tate sighs, looking slight disheartened. "We're in some kind of space station. Not sure exactly where, or who the people here are. Possibly some pissed off some guys you and Ally robbed or some shit like that."

Malia raises the eyebrow at the familiar nickname, but let's it go quickly instead for answers. "And Ally is where?"

"A couple of days ago, a girl by the name of A. Argent was signed into the cloning facility," Tate replies. "She's here."

"But where exactly?"

"That, I do know," Tate tells her, smiling as the control panel finally lets her through, door sliding open. "Let's go."

-

"So," Tate said, gesturing to the long stretching corridor. "This is the cloning facility."

"Been out here before?"

The look on Tate's face screams discomfort, but she continues on an explanation that she started back in that cold room, "When they first cloned me, I ran out here. Found you. They tried to kill me, seeing as I was defective, I guess. I wasn't following their orders. Only I got away. They thought to just leave me, thought I would just starve."

"Luckily for me, and unluckily for them, I was able to hack the door to your room to sneak out and get food. It takes a while, but it was the safest place I could think of. They monitored you through vitals only, so it was secure. They didn't know I was there at least."

"I was able to overhear some bits of info on my way around," Tate smiles, stopping in front of a large door. "This is where she is."

Malia and Tate glanced at each other, then at the door, sharing a nod.

"Let's get her, hey?" Tate grinned.

"Yeah," Malia smiled.

And then they got to work.

-

When Allison finally awoke, it was chaotic.

She took one look at Tate, another at Malia, and pointed her blaster straight at the clone.

"Wait, Allison!" Malia grabs her arms and the blaster drops from her hands, clattering to the floor, a shot narrowly missing Tate.

"Who the hell are you?" Allison growled, glaring at both her girlfriend and Tate with barely held confusion.

"I'm Malia's clone," she replied bluntly, shrugging at the 'I-thought-we-agreed-to-break-this-to-her-slowly' glance she received from Malia.

Allison laughed, a sharp, jagged little sound that made the other two wince, "Clones don't-"

"Exist," Tate finished for her. "Look, Allison, I already got that from Malia, and right now, all you guys need to do is escape. The guys running this place probably know that we've left now and-"

"Hey," Malia butted in. "What do you mean 'you guys'? Aren't you coming with us?"

Allison glared back at her girlfriend with an incredulous gaze, but Tate whispered, "You want me to come with you?"

"Of course," Malia said, as if it was the most obvious thing in the world. "You are me after all. Anyway, you were saying?"

Speechless for a moment, Tate regained her composure.

"Alright, here's the plan..."

-

Looking out from the little escape shuttle they had managed to grab before the captors had been able to catch them, Malia sighed.

Tate was scrunched up in the corner, snoring lightly with her hair plastered to her forehead with a small smile that tugged at Malia's heartstrings for some reason, and Allison was curled up on Malia's lap, head pressed against her chest, forehead creased as she dreamed on.

All of this made no sense. Malia and Allison, small criminals with no real large reputation were captured by either: a) some assholes who had stolen them away for no reason or b) some understandably pissed off people with grudges, but either way, clones? 

Tate herself was an anomaly. She was meant to be Malia, there was no mistaking that. Blunt and to the point, but somehow softer, with lighter hair and brighter eyes. But Tate, didn't feel like a clone.

Clones were meant to be for one purpose, to save people, to do some job, to do something. They, according to Tate's fairly quick description of them, weren't meant to have personalities. The ones that did were in fiction, made up characters.

But Tate was a clone, with all the sarcasm and honesty that made up Malia, mixed with a slightly faster wit and some kind of gentleness that remained hidden. 

Tate shouldn't be real.

But she is.

And somehow Malia was happy about that.

That she didn't understand, why Tate made her so joyful, but watching the girl curl herself into a ball and sleep her problems away was almost uplifting.

And for that, Malia was thankful.


End file.
